


Some say god is where we put our sorrow

by hookme



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Friendships, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Jason Grace, Slow Build, Slow Burn, roman!Nico
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 22:16:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15277347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hookme/pseuds/hookme
Summary: Nico’s a ghost, an empty shell of the boy he used to be, body littered with scars and no memories, no home to go back to. Jason’s not any better, the weight of the expectations of an entire Camp pressing down his shoulders ― being the son of Jupiter has only ever brought him sorrow.The truth is: a demigod’s life is never easy ― fate just takes and takes andtakes― but even though they’re haunted by demons whose shapes they chose themselves, finding comfort in each other might just be the start of something good.(and still ― someone has to leave first, and, in the end, it all comes down to who’s gonna be the first to crack under the pressure)





	Some say god is where we put our sorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not exactly sure what I'm going to do with this, bUT WELP, HERE WE GO ＼(￣▽￣)／  
> extra thnks for my sis' for helping me out with the summary, listening to my nonsensical ramblings at 4AM and overall being a nice cookie to me ;;  
> English is not my first language, so, if something sounds very '?????', do tell me so I can figure out how to fix it C:  
> Hope you guys enjoy it :D

Jason is a demigod ― a son of Jupiter at that. He’s, well,  _ used _ to things going wrong. He’s survived monsters showing up out of nowhere, he’s survived gods and titans and prophecies being thrown left and right, and he’s quite  _ used _ to things throwing him off his loop. Amnesia? Check. Killing a Titan with his own hands? Check. Being raised by wolves? Also check. Though there’s no particular order for the universe to decide that he’s at peace for long enough before giving him another problem to solve or another monster to fight, Jason kinda believed that he and his friends would have  _ a break _ after Krios and whatnot.

Guess what? Jason was  _ wrong. _

“Zhang’s seen something strange.” Reyna’s entire posture screams  _ something went wrong, _ and Jason’s with Ivlivs in hands and following Reyna out before she can properly explain everything. “Next to Little Tiber.”

Jason’s brain zeroes on all possibilities. Harpies? No, they haven’t showed up ever since that last stunt with Michael. Fauns? They use to roam near the area, but Jason thinks it’s unlikely ― they’re not allowed to enter, and most of them are fine with it; Jason would hate to draw his sword to creatures who’d never actively tried to kill him or his friends (even though he’s not exactly a _ fan). _ Nyctimene… It’s a possibility. He’s seen her roaming around, he’s seen the way she looks at them, and Jason just  _ knows _ it can’t be something good.

There are legionnaires ready at the Little Tiber, and, while closing the distance between them, Jason’s able to see Frank’s lorica segmentata shining brightly under the heavy sun. Jason resists the urge to run mostly because the legionnaires don’t hold defensive stances ― they’re  _ cautious, _ there’s a difference ―, and also because he can’t  _ see _ what it is that caused mayhem. At his side, Reyna’s face is carefully put together, no crack in her façade that would allow an outsider to have an insight on her thoughts, but Jason  _ knows  _ her, he knows what this expression means, and his body tenses in anticipation, ready to fight if necessary.

At first, when the legionnaires part to allow them to come closer, Jason doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary ― no monsters, no bodies, no nothing. He almost turns to Frank to ask  _ why, _ exactly, they’ve been called, but Reyna’s breath hitches, and Jason’s focus immediately diverts. He  _ sees. _

There’s something happening in the water.  _ Under _ the water. It’s not flowing, it’s ― it’s  _ swirling, _ the circles getting bigger by the second, darker, almost  _ fuming. _

“It wasn’t there this morning.” Frank finally says, careful. “Or twenty minutes ago.”

_ Strange, _ indeed, and something cold stirss inside Jason’s guts. He wants to ask more, wants to hear what Reyna’s talking, but there’s the roar of blood in his ears, something itching under his skin, and every cell in his body telling him to  _ get away. _ He doesn’t not because he doesn’t want to ― because he  _ does _ ―, but because the feeling’s all too familiar, like the burning at the back of his head when he’s out in a mission and everything’s about to go downhill.

Jason sheathes Ivlivs and takes a step closer. The movement doesn’t go unnoticed, and even Reyna stops to look at him ― and, if  _ he _ thinks he knows her, nothing comes even  _ close _ to how well the daughter of Bellona knows  _ him. _ Her features immediately harden.

“Don’t do this.”

And Jason probably should hear, because going by his own ideas has never been  _ good _ to him, but then, again, there’s this pull inside his ribcage, almost demanding for him to reach out. He keeps taking tentative steps, until he’s right at the riverside, the soil under his shoes muddy and water splashing close. It’s warm like he thought it’d be, but not quite enough to burn. Jason takes another step, and his feet get under it.

“Jason.” Reyna’s voice holds a warning, as if she’s using all her willpower not to ask him  _ what the hell are you doing? _

“Trust me.”

There’s  _ something _ ― the water’s almost on Jason’s hips when he  _ understands. _

_ “Shit.”  _ at his curse, the legionnaire (and Reyna herself) seem ready to dive into the water and fight whatever it is, but Jason’s next sentence seems to confuse them. “Call Gwen!”

They seem frozen in place, and worry flares up Jason’s throat.

“Go!”

He reaches down, and what his hands find, although soft and cold, is not  _ soil. _

_ “Now!” _

This time, Jason’s order does the trick.

That, or the body he drags out of the river.

 

Jason has the bad habit of turning into autopilot mode in certain situations. That wouldn’t be an awkward thing if he, you know,  _ remembered _ doing things, but he doesn’t, so, yeah, bad for him. Between finding a  _ body _ in Little Tiber and finding himself sitting in front of Gwen’s barrack, he doesn’t remember much. There are bloodied bandages on his hands, Jason feels a bit numb, and Reyna, on his side, looks strangely at him. Jason suspects it may have something to do with any weird thing he may have done ― it wouldn’t be the first time ―, but has no chance to ask, because, as soon as he gathers enough courage to do so, Gwen comes out.

“He’s alive.” she says, but the look on her face doesn’t allow neither Jason nor Reyna to relax. “For now. I don’t know what happened, but it was bad. Do you guys have anything that might help?”

Jason thinks of the moment he got the body in his arms: too light, protruding bones under his fingers, cold as the dead. Something weird happens inside his chest, and he makes an even weirder noise. Reyna’s hand immediately rests on his shoulder, grounding him, and Gwen watches them with serious eyes.

“I believe we don’t.” though her answer could be considered somewhat rude, there’s softeness in Reyna’s voice. “We ― Jason found him under the Little Tiber. We don’t know for how long he was in there, but Zhang said it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.”

Gwen’s shoulders drop, immediately losing her tense stance.

“I though you’d say that.” she laments, and pushes her hair back nervously. “Would you like to see him?”

Jason and Reyna share a look; she nods almost at the same time as he stands, body rigid, and Gwen doesn’t need to be told twice before guiding them inside. The barrack where the children of Phoebus do their thing isn’t exactly  _ big, _ but it’s big enough, and there’s certain warmth in the place ― but it smells like medicine and antiseptic, and Jason’s stomach churns.

“He has no ID card, no documents, no anything.” Gwen says, her voice just a tad quieter, as they pass some beds with sleeping people and drawn curtains. “He doesn’t have the SPQR, either. There’s no way to know who he is.”

_ Unless he wakes up, _ Jason thinks, but doesn’t voice it. Gwen doesn’t need to say it out loud for them to know that there’s a high possibility that the boy won’t, and chances are never on their side. There’s this  small voice at the back of Jason’s head, a nudging feeling that things are about to change, but he forces himself to push it down, hands closed against his sides.

“He’s severely malnourished.” Gwen stops. “There are ― uh, here. It’s better if you see it first.”

She motions towards the bed, and the first thing Jason sees is the boy’s  _ face. _ Sunken cheeks, dark bags under his eyes, deathly pale, lips blueish, that’s not even the  _ worst _ part. What’s the worst part? He’s  _ covered _ in bandages. They’re wrapped all around his frame, his arms, his chest, and Jason can see bloody spots in certain places.

“I gave him unicorn draught.” Gwen says, cautiously, and Reyna’s head snaps in her direction. “No one entirely human would…  _ Survive _ so much time with that kind of wounds. Or survive so long in Little Tiber.”

“You believe we are dealing with a demigod.” Jason looks up at her, and it’s the first time something akin to a smile glows on Gwen’s face.

“I  _ know _ we are dealing with one.”

  
  


The demigod doesn’t wake up. Jason makes a point of passing in the barrack for a few minutes every day, first because he feels it’s kinda his responsibility, then because it’s the perfect excuse to hide himself from the rest of the Camp for a while. It’s not that Jason’s  _ avoiding  _ them ― it’s more like he’s trying his best not to be suffocated by his own mates. After Krios and the last battles they had to endure, as both praetor and titan slayer, Jason’s popularity skyrocketed, and it’s rare for him to have time to himself. He never minded too much, how probatio and legionnaires are always asking him to spar or to tell them his stories, but now it’s coming to the point where Jason can’t  _ walk _ without people stopping him, and it’s a bit too much.

So, yes, he takes peace in tiptoeing his way to the barracks to make company to a half-dead boy, and can’t even find it in himself to be  _ embarrassed. _ Reyna knows, of course she does, but she doesn’t seem to think it’s something bad ― if she thought so, she’d probably have talked Jason out of it already. But she doesn’t, and Jason’s comfortable, and everything’s fine.

“Gwen says you’re making progress.”

Jason’s read somewhere that talking to people in comatose helps, and, well, he  _ is _ a bit curious. Gwen said Death Boy (that’s what they’re calling him, for the lack of a proper name) is slowly filling in, although still severely malnourished and underweight, and Jason can see the change ― his cheeks are not  _ so _ sunken anymore, his lips lost the blueish undertone. Jason’s well-aware that Gwen and the other children of Phoebus are doing everything possible for the boy to recover, but there’s still something heavily unsettling about watching him lying in bed like a corpse.

If it weren’t for Death Boy’s chest rising in an almost imperceptible way, Jason would’ve thought he’s dead.

“We have a lot of questions for when ―”  _ if, _ Jason’s mind supplies, unhelpful, and he makes a pause. “For when you wake up, you know. It’s not everyday a half-dead”  _ mostly dead. _ “demigod shows up on our doorstep.”

Or, well, kinda. Lupa’s never  _ gentle, _ and some demigods go through a lot before finding the Camp. They don’t usually come so  _ late _ ― mostly at the start of their teen years, eleven or twelve, thirteen at the most. Jason looks at Death Boy and can’t exactly give him an age range; he doesn’t look like he’s younger than fourteen, but he’s  _ thin, _ much thinner than he should, and so small Jason’s 200% sure the boy standing won’t go further than his chest, so it’s hard to know.

“Octavian says you shouldn’t be here. He says it’s wrong, something about harmony and the balance of the universe.” Jason scoffs, thinking about the Augur, and immediately scratches the back of his head, shame filling him. “Don’t get me wrong, Reyna and I are supposed to listen to him when he says things like that, but still. You ― you need help, don’t you? And we don’t turn our back on people who need help.”

And Jason couldn’t exactly care less about the balance of the universe, not after everything the gods themselves put him through, but he doesn’t say it. Who knows, maybe Death Boy will remember what he’s telling ― Jason needs to be careful with the things he says, and the thought makes him a bit upset. A demigod’s life is never easy, but having to hold himself back all the time takes a toll on him. He sighs.

“I want you to wake up soon.” Jason admits, scratching the back of his head. “Not just because I want answers, but ― it’s, uh. It’d be nice to make another friend.”

Not that Jason has  _ many _ friends, but still.

“Anyway, I need to go now. Reyna made me promise to help her with the Senate, they’re wanting us to make changes in New Rome again.” he smiles, though Death Boy can’t see it. “I think you’d like here.”

_ It’s sometimes dangerous and exhaustive, but it’s home. _ Jason keeps the thought to himself, gently patting Death Boy’s hand before standing and stretching.

“Guess I’ll see you later, then.”

Death Boy, as expected, doesn’t answer.

  
  


“I’ll leave.” Reyna tells Jason, a few days later, and he freezes completely, giving her a chance of knocking him down during the match.

_ “Leave?” _

Jason’s not even bothered that he’s lost their sparr session ― he gets  _ way _ more easily distracted than Reyna, and she’s always ruthless, practice or no practice. The world around him swirls dangerously, like when he forgets to eat and ends up dizzy, and Jason looks at Reyna with desperation bubbling under his skin.  _ Leave? _ Why would she leave? Jason can’t do this alone. He’s not focused like Reyna, his grip on the legion isn’t as tight as hers,  _ shit, _ Jason can’t do this alone, he just  _ can’t. _

“Yeah, for a few days.” still above him, Reyna gives Jason a confused glance when he breathes out in relief, closing his eyes and mumbling to himself. “What?”

“Nothing.” Jason gives her a smile before Reyna stands, offering him a hand. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m not entirely sure.” Reyna’s expression sobers up a bit ― if she’s even remotely tired by their sparring match, she doesn’t show. “Hylla sent me a message this morning.”

Worry worms itself to Jason’s ribcage. Reyna has never told him much about her sister, and he’s never tried to pry answers out of her, knowing it’s for the better. There’s not much that Jason knows about Hylla other than the fact that she’s Reyna’s older sister and lives outside both Camp Jupiter and New Rome, doing ― something. Jason’s never met her in person and he’s not entirely sure he ever will; Reyna may not tell him much, but she’s let very clear that Hylla isn’t exactly someone for you to have as an enemy. Not that Jason  _ would _ try to get on Hylla’s bad side, sure, but Reyna advised him not to try and be a friend, either.

Hylla only ever talks to Reyna, and even then, she only ever contacts her sister when she deems necessary. That can only mean one thing: trouble.

“Does she need help?”

Jason knows Reyna would never allow him to go with her, but maybe she'll bring Aquila and Felix along if he insists enough. Reyna eyes him quietly, probably knowing what Jason's thinking, before she shakes her head thoughtfully.

“No, no, it's nothing like that.” she presses her lips in a thin line before explaining: “She wants to see me.”

_ That  _ is definitely not what Jason was expecting ― and neither was Reyna, if her expression is anything to go by. Hylla always gave Jason the impression she's one of these type of people who prefer to keep a safe distance unless there's something wrong going on. She's literally  _ never _ contacted Reyna just for ‘sibling bonding’. Suddenly, there are knots of anxiety and worry tying themselves onto Jason’s guts.

“You don’t need to go.” he says, like a fool, because it’s obvious Reyna wants to ― Hylla’s her sister, her  _ family, _ why wouldn’t she? An idea crosses Jason’s mind. “She can come instead. We don’t have to tell anyone. There’s enough space in our villas, she can ―”

“She won’t come.” Reyna’s voice isn’t any softer, but her eyes tell Jason she appreciates that he’s at least  _ trying. _ “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back in, like, three days. She and her group probably had a bit of a run-in with a monster or something and she needs some help.”

Jason didn’t know Hylla had a group. If they  _ are _ having problems with monsters, Jason still thinks it’d be better if Reyna went with a few legionnaire ― not because he doesn’t trust her, but because it’d be  _ safer. _ He wants to offer his villa once again, tell her Hylla can bring the entire group and Jason will personally guarantee that everyone will be comfortable during their stay; but then, again, Jason’s not sure he can sneak in someone without the Senate finding out, let alone  _ an entire group, _ and he doesn’t know if Reyna  _ wanted _ to tell him this, or if she’s just too lost in her own thoughts to notice what she did. He clamps his mouth shut for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts.

“I can go with you.” Jason offers, not for the first time and probably not for the last, even though he knows Reyna would never let him. “I can help.”

_ You just have to say the word. _

“Camp Jupiter needs you.” Reyna’s features harden just the slightest, a  _ ‘No’ _ clear in her tone. “One praetor gone is already too much, but two? Things would blow up, I’m sure. No, Jason, we need you here.”

Jason knows she’s right, but that doesn’t make him feel even the slightest better about the situation. Reyna sees it written all over his face, and her shoulders drop when she sighs deeply.

“Hylla is not… Fond of strangers.” she says, quietly, as if she owes him any kind of explanation. “She’d never hurt me,  _ ever, _ but I can’t guarantee the safety of anyone that comes with me. Not even you.”

Jason can take care of himself just fine, but he knows what Reyna means. He’d  _ never _ let her go with him to a place he couldn’t protect her from ― not if he were given a choice about the matter. Reyna feeling the need to tell him why he can’t go just because he insisted on coming, however, makes his ribcage heavy with guilt. He takes Reyna’s hand between his, interlacing their fingers.

“It’s okay.” he tells her, a soft smile on his face. “I understand, don’t worry.”

Reyna leaves that night, and Jason  _ wonders. _

  
  


Jason always tries to be extra careful with everything he does and every decision he takes whenever Reyna’s not around, if only because he doesn’t want her to come back to chaos. Things usually go smoothly, and he doesn’t need to worry  _ too much _ about all little things ― what doesn’t necessarily means he doesn’t, but still. The knowledge that Reyna trusts him enough to give him  _ entire control _ of the camp while she’s gone is enough to keep him on the edge. Usually, things go well. Reyna never leaves for more than three days at time, and Jason’s not  _ that _ much of a hopeless cause to make Camp Jupiter crash and burn in so little time ― plus, it’s not like the probatio and the legionnaire go out of their way to make his life hard.

The Senate is the only problem ― with Reyna out of picture, they always think they can pressure Jason into giving in to their nonsensical ideas. Build a shrine of pure gold to Jupiter. Make temples in New Rome. Go back to the old ways. Jason’s not entirely sure  _ why _ they think they’ll convince him to do any of those things, but he knows why they  _ want _ him to. A demigod’s life is never easy ― the Senate’s logic deems that, if they manage to somehow please the gods, maybe they can have a  _ chance. _ Jason can’t hate them for trying, but he  _ can _ feel resented that they try and use his status as son of Jupiter to make him agree to do as they please. Thing is: with or without Reyna, Jason can hold his own with the Senate, he’s just not  _ happy _ about it.

And, as the universe’s out to get him,  _ of course _ today is the day everything decides to go downhill and make Jason’s life  _ miserable. _ It starts with the Senate knocking him off bed at ass o’clock in the morning to talk about the shrine  _ again,  _ and Jason has to bite his tongue to stop himself from cursing out loud at Jupiter for this ― it’s, after all, his father’s fault that they’re  _ this _ obsessed with pleasing the gods, and Jason’s the one to pay the price. He spends  _ the entire morning _ trying to keep them at bay, and, by the time they’re finished, there’s a dull ache hammering at the back of Jason’s skull, reminding him that: a) he had an  _ horrible _ night of sleep and b) he didn’t eat anything before coming. It’s his own damn fault, in a certain way, but Jason stores that anger for later, breathing in deeply and rubbing his temples tentatively, hoping that the pressure will ease the pain a bit.

It doesn’t. Jason’s halfway through convincing himself that it’s okay to take a time-out and hide from the world for an hour or so when that plan, too, gets snatched from his fingers and thrown out the window.

“Praetor Grace!”

He sobers up pretty fast at the sound of Gwen’s voice calling out to him, because she sounds both panicked  _ and _ desperate. In his long experience as a demigod, those feelings are only mixed when there’s a huge monster attack or the world’s ending ― again. He turns around and there she is, disheveled hair and eyes wide as saucers. She looks relieved to see him, and, internally, Jason’s already listing the possible reasons for her to be after him.

Octavian never sends a messenger, unless it’s something urgent ― in both cases, still, he prefers to be the one talking, so Jason risks the possibility off. Maybe the children of Mars started another war game among themselves ― it wouldn’t be the first nor the last time. But, by the look on Gwen’s face, it’s  _ not _ something usual, not something they can downplay either.

“Gwen.” he greets her politely when she’s finally close enough, crouching down on her knees and panting, as if she ran all the way here. That alone makes an entire set of alarms go off in Jason’s head, for very obvious reasons. “What happened?”

“Praetor Grace.” Gwen swallows loudly before she stands, face flushed, shoulders rigid. “It’s ― it’s the boy. The one you found on Little Tiber.”

Jason’s blood runs cold.

“He’s gone.”

 

In retrospect, maybe Jason and Reyna  _ should _ have kept more than one legionary guarding the barrack that Death Boy was in, but none of them really thought it was a necessary precaution. Gwen  _ said _ that Death Boy wasn’t in condition to walk around, let alone  _ run away, _ didn’t she?

“Tell me again:  _ how, _ exactly, he managed to escape?”

And Jason says ‘escape’ because that’s what it is to him; an underweight, half-dead demigod who  _ somehow _ stole ambrosia and unicorn draught,  _ hid _ from both Gwen and her siblings, and then  _ still _ managed not to be caught by the legionary on his way out. A demigod like that, that probably _ still is _ in theCamp can mean trouble to  _ all _ of them, and Jason’s not  _ mad, _ sure, but he  _ is _ slightly pissed. Reyna will have their heads on a silver plate, his included, and he can’t even be  _ upset _ about it. Not even  _ a day _ that she went to see her sister, and things are already going to hell in the Camp; how is she supposed to  _ trust _ Jason after this disaster? The dull ache has escalated to a burning sensation that has Jason’s entire body recoiling in pain, and he pinches the bridge of his nose to try and mantain his focus.

Gwen seems a bit scared, and guilt nips at Jason’s ribs like a vicious monster. He wants them to  _ understand _ the seriousness of this situation,  _ not _ to be afraid of him.

“We don’t know for sure, praetor.” one of Gwen’s brothers ― Chris, Jason believes ― jumps in to her aid, apparently not happy that Jason’s making her upset. “We did what we do every morning. I cleaned his bandages, Gwen checked his vitals. Nothing was out of ordinary; the kid didn’t show  _ any _ sign of getting better.”

“Then Chris went to see Peter.” Kara, the youngest, chimes in. “Because Peter’s still recovering from our last War Games, and Callisto’s been angry about it, so I went with him.”

“I was trying to find my emergency bag on the cabinet, because Octavian told me he’d need it soon.” Gwen rubs the back of her neck, anxious. “But it wasn’t there, so I thought  _ ‘Hey, maybe someone already got it for him’, _ what would’ve been strange, but not unusual, and I was going to ask Chris about it.”

There’s a pause. The tension hangs heavily between the five demigods in the room, and Jason feels slightly nauseated.

“But when I turned, he ― the boy ―” Gwen frowns. “He wasn’t there anymore. Poof. He’d disappeared.”

“When I heard her scream, I came in.” Jacob, the legionary responsible for guarding the place, finally talks. “I thought she was in danger. Did I do wrong, Praetor Grace?”

If Gwen  _ were _ in danger, would Jason be mad at Jacob for allowing the culript to escape while trying to help her? The answer, while simple, brings along implications he’s not entirely sure he’d be able to face. Jason resists the urge to sigh or rub his face, not wanting any of them to see how  _ tired _ he feels.

“No. No, you ― you did good, Jacob, don’t worry.” the tension immediately leaves the room, and Jason carefully avoids thinking about what this means. “Call the others, though, because we need to find the boy. Kahale, Zhang, Ardell, you got it. We need to find him _ fast.” _ another thought crosses Jason’s mind, and he adds, before Jacob can leave: “When we find him” not  _ if, _ because Jason can’t allow himself to fail again. “I don’t want a fight, understood? Don’t aim to kill or maim. We need him both alive  _ and _ conscious to get answers.”

Jacob nods, face serious, and leaves. Part of Jason wants to curl up in a corner and never leave, but he knows that, as a praetor and son of Jupiter, there’s  _ more _ expected of him. So he straightens his shoulders, prepares himself for whatever it is that it’s going to be Octavian’s lecture when he finds out what happened, and turns to the children of Phoebus with the gentlest smile he manages.

“You’ve treated him for all this time. How far do you think he got?”

Gwen and Chris share a look. Kara seems upset.

“With luck?” Chris frowns. “I’d bet somewhere near the field of Mars.”

 

Death Boy  _ is _ lucky, and it takes the legionnaire almost  _ an entire hour _ to locate him. Jason has the feeling he shouldn’t get surprised anymore, not about this, but he does anyway. There’s something manic about Death Boy’s eyes ― something dark and twisted that makes Jason think of a madman. With his feverish face, it’s not hard to conclude it’s  _ dangerous _ to come any closer, but still. There’s something… Strange about this picture. Everything in Death Boy screams he’s a threat and shouldn’t be regarded lightly, and, by the way the legionnaire stand around him, Jason’s not the only one to think that way.  _ Even then. _ Death Boy holds himself as if he can kill them with his bare hands, but Jason’s guts tell him there’s more than meets eye.

Death Boy almost looks…  _ Scared. _

“Legionnaire.” Jason raises his voice, steady, calm. “Step back.”

Frank looks weirdly at him, but obeys. The others aren’t so sure.

“But ―”

“Step. Back.”

Jason doesn’t like to treat his mates coldly, but he sees no other choice here. He won’t ask them to keep down their weapons ― he’s not that much of a fool ―, but he needs to have them  _ listening. _ Death Boy is a demigod, that much is clear, so he’s dangerous either way, but Jason knows having people with spears and swords pointed at you would put  _ anyone _ on edge, and he doesn’t need things getting out of control because he didn’t handle them with enough care. Death Boy, however, doesn’t relax even in the slightest, his eyes darting from one to another, suspicious. Even when Jason steps in, he doesn’t lose his focus, and for that the praetor admires him ― if Death Boy turned all his attention to Jason, it’d be easier to knock him down.

“We’re not here to hurt you.”

Death Boy tenses, and Jason runs the words on his head, trying to understand where he went wrong. He doesn’t think he sounded threatening, but then, again, maybe it’s hard to believe him when they’re surrounded by people wielding weapons. Jason reasons with himself that this is not something he can help ― for safety.

“What ―”

“Where am I?” Death Boy’s eyes dart around before turning on him,  _ solely _ on him, and Jason’s confused as to why something cold sinks inside him like a bucket of freezing water over his head. “Who are  _ you?” _

His question shouldn’t bother Jason, but ― well, it kinda does. Death Boy sounds like he’d rather be  _ anywhere _ but here, and it pulls a sore string. Jason pushes it to the back of his head and tries to assume a friendlier posture, something more open. It’ll be less troubling to have Death Boy at least  _ aware _ that they’re not enemies ― at least, not for now. He has no reason to make things harder than they need to be.

“I’m Jason Grace, and you’re in Camp Jupiter.” he deems it’s good not to offer his hand in greeting, because Death Boy still looks like he’s on flight mode, and Jason doesn’t want him to take it as a possible threat. “We ― found you in the river. We’ve been ―”

“Wait, wait, hold up.” Death Boy’s face is unreadable. “What are you talking about?”

Jason stops, the confusion written on the boy’s face making him uneasy. The legionnaire share a look, and Jason’s known them for long enough to be sure that they don’t buy this situation at all. Death Boy seems sincere enough, but who knows. Reyna’s always telling Jason he needs to stop giving people the benefit of doubt, because then they can take advantage of him, but he believes this to be a bit too much. If Jason doesn’t trust people, how can  _ anyone _ trust him?

In this case, however, he understands the burning need to have caution. They don’t know who Death Boy is and what he’s able to do ― he can be a liar, too, as far as Jason’s concerned. He has to be careful with the chances he takes, because, in the end, he  _ is _ a praetor, and his job  _ is _ to keep things at peace.

“Kahale.” the legionary immediately turns to him, shoulders straight, face hard. “Guide the others back, send Praetor Ramírez-Arellano a message. Zhang.” Frank goes rigid, and Jason resists the urge to offer him a calming smile, keeping his face stoic instead. “Stay with us.”

This time, it doesn’t take them long to obey ― Kahale  _ does _ give Death Boy a final suspicious glare before leaving, the other legionnaire following him without hesitation. Death Boy doesn’t seem relieved or relaxed (Jason would be even more cautious if he did), but his scowl  _ does _ soften a bit when he glares at Jason. His shoulders are still rigid with tension, hands closed into fists at his sides ― Jason’s aware the danger still lingers.

“Sorry about this, we’re not ― uh, used to stranges showing up around here.”

_ Not strangers that fool Phoebus’ children and play with the legionnaire like a cat that got the mouse. _

Death Boy’s glare turns a bit colder.

“What do you want?”

Jason knows honesty is the best policy. Even if he didn’t think so, something deep within his guts tells him lying wouldn’t do him any good right now.

“Answers.” Jason doesn’t allow himself to relax even the slightest. “Just like you. You have questions, but so do I. We can talk about it here, if you want to, but I’m hungry, so we can eat first.”

The mention of food makes Death Boy’s entire face change, and he ― looks a lot like a little kid. Jason can’t quite resist the smile that slowly makes its way to his face, hoping that Death Boy won’t take it as something offensive. The other, however, quickly recovers, glancing at Frank before turning his eyes back to Jason, his lips pressed tightly, as if assessing the situation, as if assessing  _ them. _ Jason surely hopes he’s not considering a fight, because  _ that _ wouldn’t end well.

Frank notices it, too, and his entire body goes still. Death Boy takes a deep breath, and the hair at the nape of Jason’s neck stands.

“... I don’t trust you.” Death Boy settles for, though he doesn’t sound nearly as cold as he did before, arms crossed in front of his chest. “I suppose it’s safe to assume you don’t trust me either.”

Jason offers him a tight-liped smile.

“That’s… Fine by me.” Death Boy’s posture relaxes slightly. “Food sounds good.”

If Jason weren’t so tense, relief would immediately flood his system. He, however, allows himself to a moment of peace, body relaxing slowly. Frank doesn’t exactly  _ relax, _ but his shoulders aren’t quite as rigid as before. Jason counts it as a win.

“Then food it is.”

 

Death Boy is ― well,  _ hungry. _ Jason’s caught off guard, sure, but then he reasons with himself that it should’ve been something  _ expected, _ given the fact that the kid’s been living off unicorn draught and the tiny pieces of ambrosia Gwen’s managed to feed him the past few weeks. Still, it’s hard not to stare a bit when the boy practically  _ inhales _ his food.

He sees Jason staring ― of course he does ―, and pauses halfway through eating a bagel. Jason feels bad when Death Boy puts it down, because it was never his intention to make him uncomfortable in the first place.

“I ―”

“So.” Death Boy clears his throat, interrupting him, and the tips of his ears are tainted red. “You said you had questions.”

And Jason  _ does. _ How did he end up in the river? How did he fool the children of Phoebus? How did he hide from Roman patrols? Why did he try to run away, after all? And, more important than any of the above: what’s his  _ name? _ Jason can’t refer to him as ‘Death Boy’ forever.

“Yeah, uh, okay.” Jason immediately assumes a straight posture, stoicism back to his face. “First question: what’s your name?”

There’s a minute or two of silence. Jason feels a bit nervous. Frank seems lost, as if he himself has some questions he’d like the answer for. Death Boy only stares, expressionless, as if he’s scheming something ― or asking himself why didn’t he go back to his food, Jason can’t say for sure. What matters is that the boy takes his own time to answer the question, considering something.

“Nico.” is what he finally settles for. “di Angelo. My name’s Nico di Angelo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBM never happened. TOA also didn't happen.  
> Actually, scratch that. I'm changing everything from HOO to eVERYTHING ELSE.  
> (╮°-°)╮┳━━┳ ( ╯°□°)╯ ┻━━┻
> 
> The romance's not exactly a major plot point?  
> tho I'll indulge myself a lot with the story because I'm just this kind of person (￣▽￣)  
> Hope you liked it \o  
> also, I'm not sure when I'll update because I'm a mess like that ('・ω・)  
> also², a ps: it's been too many years since I've read the HOO series. I honestly don't care much about canon and oocness at this point (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧


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